


you come back with gravity

by harryhotspur



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Angst, Communication, Emotions, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Reconciliation, Reunions, slowly learning how to love again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 03:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30049188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryhotspur/pseuds/harryhotspur
Summary: Andy and Quỳnh try to work things out.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25
Collections: The Old Guard Femslash Fortnight





	you come back with gravity

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for TOG Femslash Fortnight for the Sunday prompt Reunions <3 (it's still Sunday somewhere in the world, right?)
> 
> Title is from I Know The End by Pheobe Bridgers 
> 
> Thank you so much to [jasminetea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasminetea/pseuds/jasminetea) for the last minute beta. Please check out her fics <3
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

Andy looked up from her book as Quỳnh entered the main room of the small apartment. She stood a little awkwardly in the door, wrapped her arms around herself, and pulled her robe around her tightly. A tension - as finely strung and taut as threads on a loom - inhabited the space between them. Over the past few months, Quỳnh had moved through various stages. The first was hatred: all hot rage, seething with abandonment. The second was formed from fear, jumping at the sounds of cars, running water, voices, the harshness of electric light. The third, a deep and paralysing sadness that seemed to hold her as fast and bury her as deep as the metal and water had done. She was starting to come out of that phase now, eating more, sleeping more, attempting to read books. Since they’d been in Vietnam, they’d begun sleeping in the same bed, not touching but under the same blanket.

It was a start at least. 

Quỳnh walked into the room. She moved silently, feet light against the wooden floor - the barely perceptible footfalls of an assassin. She paused halfway across the room and then stopped as if some unseen force held her there. Andy wanted to stand, to rush across the room and bundle Quỳnh into her arms. To kiss her and hold her and keep holding on for all the years that she had left. 

Instead, she stayed sitting. 

Quỳnh didn’t move. 

They’d come to Vũng Tàu a week ago. It had been Andy’s idea, well - Andy’s idea spurred on by Nicky’s suggestion. 

“Andy,” he had said, voice measured as usual - a calm sea, a welcome port. He had his back turned to her as he added onions to a pot on the stove. They hissed loudly as they hit the oil. He’d been making the stew they had eaten in Brittany, the last meal they had had all together before Andy and Quỳnh had left for England. Andy knew cooking this meal was Nicky’s way of trying to make things feel normal again, his way of saying to Quỳnh: _I hope we can get this back._ “Yusuf and I have been talking -” Nicky had continued. She’d watched as he began to chop the carrots, his movements precise and guided. “We think you should take some time. Take Quỳnh and go somewhere familiar - try to fill some of the gaps.” The way that they always talked in _We_ ’s made something ache at the back of Andy’s chest. 

Andy had wanted to say to him that there _was_ nowhere familiar. In all the years Quỳnh had been underwater, the world had changed so much. The gulf between them was so wide - wider than all the oceans, wider than the distance between the planets, wider than the span of time itself. She wanted to grab Nicky by his shoulders, say he was idealistic, say that everything _wasn’t_ like him and Yusuf. Not everybody could just fuck off to Malta and spend a week fucking each other's brains out until everything felt okay again. Sometimes people are so broken, a relationship so shattered, that nothing can be done to bring the fractured edges back together again. 

She didn’t say anything, because she knew it was unfair. Instead, she had just nodded and said she would think about it. 

Andy had booked the tickets to Ho Chi Minh City the next day. She found a small apartment to rent in Vũng Tàu, facing away from the beach and most likely less desirable to tourists. Vũng Tàu was very popular among travellers now, Andy had ideally wanted to go somewhere quieter, but this was near where Quỳnh was born. She wanted to take her back somewhere where there would be a bit of familiarity - even if that was fleeting. 

Andy looked past Quỳnh, to the window on the other side of the room. In the small slice of sky, she could see between the buildings, storm clouds were brewing. The air was humid, everything highly strung, thick with tension.

“Andromache,” Quỳnh said, still halfway across the room. The rhythmic chug of the fan cut through the air. 

“Quỳnh,” Andy cleared her throat, her voice scratchy from not talking. 

Quỳnh covered the rest of the distance and reached her hands out for Andy to take. In a quick movement, before Andy could react, she straddled across her, resting in her lap. Andy looked down at their hands clasped together and then up to Quỳnh again. “Andromache,” Quỳnh said again. She hadn’t started calling her Andy yet, and her full name felt weighty and impossibly old. “Can I kiss you?” 

Before, it had been so easy. They had moved in tandem with ease. Whether, it was fighting or fucking, Quỳnh was always by her side; bow drawn, or touching her in _just_ the way that sent Andy wild - before she even _knew_ that was what she needed. Andy knew if she threw her axe, Quỳnh would lean gracefully out of its path; if she pressed her tongue to a particular spot behind Quỳnh’s clit, she would whine and arch up off the bed - taut as a bowstring. They had always been - like Yusuf and Nicolò were now - each other’s source of gravity, always grounded, always connected, always together. 

Now, even a kiss felt uncertain. 

They both leaned in. Quỳnh’s breath felt hot on her face and Andy could smell the lingering scent of the shampoo Quỳnh had used the night before. She still washed her hair leaning over the bath, not able to brave the shower or a full soak yet. Their lips touched softly, the barest brush of a kiss. It didn’t feel like much - not at first. And then, just as Quỳnh made a soft sound against her mouth, a swell of emotions built in Andy’s chest - loss, fear, hope, the shadowy remnants of a love long thought gone. She found herself deepening the kiss, leaning in, teasing her tongue against Quỳnh’s still closed lips. Quỳnh shifted and also deepened the kiss. She unclasped her hands from Andy’s and ran them up Andy’s back. Her fingers danced delicately over each of her ribs. Ribs which were now vulnerable; ribs which now ached when she slept on them funny; ribs which still held the lingering chronic pain from Merrick labs - from all her long, long life. Andy felt like her body was an ancient stone tablet, carved with forgotten languages, distant memories, stories long lost, never to be deciphered again. Quỳnh brushed her fingers over her clothes as if she was searching, seeking, looking for something Andy was terrified she would never find again. 

Andy reached a hand up to try and touch Quỳnh in return. In response, she pulled away ever so slightly, dodging her touch. 

“Andromache,” she said, voice shaking a little. “Not yet.” Andy drew her hand away and let them sit on her lap, close to Quỳnh but not touching her. “Can I just -” She moved her hands around the small of Andy’s back, across her hip, until she could hook two fingers just on the inside of Andy’s thigh. “First. Please.” 

Andy looked into Quỳnh’s face. It was unchanged since she was dragged out the cell to an uncertain fate, the same expansive gulf of fear and pain still resided in Quỳnh’s eyes. 

“Of course,” Andy replied, voice soft. They’d fallen into their shared language, a dialect long forgotten. “Whatever you need.” 

Quỳnh dipped her head so it was resting against Andy’s shoulder, pressed a kiss there, and worked a slow line across to her collarbone. Andy shivered as longing built deep in her chest. As if she knew, Quỳnh slid a slightly shaking hand under Andy’s shirt. Her hand felt cold against her skin as she splayed her hand out over Andy’s stomach. Quỳnh’s breathing quickened as she gradually moved upwards. 

“In the dark,” Quỳnh started, “I never thought I would feel this again.” 

“Quỳnh,” Andy whispered, surprised by how breathy and desperate her voice sounded. “Can we not talk about that. Can we just -” 

Quỳnh stopped moving her hand, the L of her thumb and forefinger resting just under Andy’s breast. She swiped her forefinger over, brushing over a nipple and teasing it gently. 

“I’m stepping into the light,” Quỳnh breathed against Andy’s neck. “This is a re-surfacing.” Quỳnh talked like this sometimes now, cryptic and strange - the easy humour she used to have replaced with weighty sentiments. 

They kissed again, more desperately this time, opened mouthed, and gasping. Quỳnh cupped Andy’s breast and massaged it, pinching and rolling her nipple between her finger and thumb. It took all of Andy’s strength to keep her hands resting at her side. She knew Quỳnh was not ready to be touched yet. Even for Andy, it was almost too much - Quỳnh so close to her, the sensation of her touching her tender skin, the fact that she was _here_. 

Quỳnh stopped, hand still on Andy’s breast. She lifted her head back up and looked into Andy’s eyes, expression open, gaze fixed. “Take me to bed,” she said. 

Quỳnh held out her hand for Andy to take, the first touch she has offered. Andy took it and led Quỳnh through to the bedroom. The shutters were closed, muffling the sound from the street outside. She sat back on the low bed and Quỳnh stepped over her thighs and bracketed her hands on Andy’s hips. “Lie back, Andromache.” 

Andy obeyed and lay back against the pillows on the mismatched muticoloured blankets. Even though she was still dressed, she suddenly felt very naked. The mattress dipped as Quỳnh stepped up onto the bed and knelt on either side of Andy’s hips, resting on her thighs. Quỳnh looked small in a way she never had before, robe falling around her body, the silk of her just slightly too big pyjamas hiding her frame. As always, she was radiant. The best thing Andy had ever seen. Her day-star, the wind through tall grass, the crisp waters of a spring. She was what she had been missing, her grounding gravitational pull, the harbour she had striving to reach for so long. Her final resting place? Andy swallowed at the thought. 

Quỳnh leaned down and gently pushed Andy’s t-shirt up, revealing her stomach. She pressed a tender kiss to the soft white skin just above her navel, lightly nipping with her teeth. Andy shivered and a soft moan left her mouth. Softly, Quỳnh licked a slow line up the soft downy hair running up the middle of Andy’s stomach, until she reached the space between her breasts. 

“You smell the same,” Quỳnh whispered, her breath tickled and made goosebumps flare across Andy’s skin. Andy arched up off the bed so Quỳnh could pull her t-shirt over her head. She returned to her breasts and, a little tentatively, flicked at one nipple with her tongue. With her hand, she toyed with the other. She circled around her areola with her thumb, brushing over the sensitive nub. “Remember the cottage just outside of Chang’an -” 

Andy tried to remember. But the memory came back in only flashing images, the curve of a decorated pot, the mirrored curve of Quỳnh’s waist. Scratchy woven blankets. The sound of water. Heat and sweat and sex. 

“I made you come by just doing this,” Quỳnh flicked her tongue around Andy’s nipple and sucked. 

The sensation jolted something within Andy and revealed the memory further. Soft rope crisscrossed her body, a candle flickered, the air smelled of jasmine. She was filled with the feeling of becoming liquid, boneless; a creature made almost translucent by the rise and fall of orgasm after orgasm. Quỳnh’s mouth around her in the same way as now, tension breaking, colour bleeding back into the world... 

“I hope you are not looking for a repeat,” Andy said. Her tone shifted into a barely held-back laugh. “I think that was a one-time deal.” 

Quỳnh stopped her ministrations and looked up. Her expression adjusted slightly, perplexed. And then, for the first time, Quỳnh laughed. An unusual sound at first, it gurgled at the back of her throat and then spilled over into something open and warm. Everything Andy remembered and loved. 

Andy smiled. 

Quỳnh began to move down, one hand still cupping Andy’s breast, and kissed down to the waistband of her trousers. Andy splayed her legs reflexively, aching with need. As if she was holding something fragile, Quỳnh cupped one hand between Andy’s legs and held it there. She applied gentle pressure and Andy whined. 

“Quỳnh,” she whispered. “ _Please_.” 

Wordlessly, Quỳnh began to undo the front button of Andy’s cargo trousers, pushed them down off her hips, and eased them off her feet. She replaced her hand against the thinner fabric of Andy’s boxers and pressed down again. Andy’s breathing quickened as, through the fabric, Quỳnh circled her thumb around her entrance, feeling the growing wetness there. She massaged her two forefingers around Andy’s clit, then brought her fingers and thumb together, slightly parting Andy’s lips. Deep, warming waves of pleasure pulsed down Andy’s thighs. 

“I missed this,” Quỳnh said, circling her thumb again. “I missed how wet you get for me.” 

Andy turned her head to one side, arm thrown over her forehead, and moaned into the crook of her elbow. Quỳnh slipped her hand inside the thick elastic waistband and gently eased Andy’s boxers down. She made a soft noise, a punched-out little squeak when she saw Andy spread out before her. Andy looked up to see Quỳnh staring down at her, eyes wide as if she was a bit unsure what to do.

“Hey,” she whispered. “Hey, it’s okay. We can stop anytime.” 

“I’m okay,” Quỳnh replied, her voice slightly shaky. “I’m okay.” 

Quỳnh pressed her hand to Andy’s vulva again. She cupped it, and then gradually began to circle two fingers around her entrance to get them slick. The soft touch of her fingers just skirting the outside was almost too much. By the time Quỳnh moved up to her clit, Andy fisted her hands in the sheets, knowing that Quỳnh still didn’t want to be touched - but not really trusting herself to keep her hands to herself. She rubbed around in lazy circles, focusing on the most sensitive part on the under-side. Andy whined. 

“I remember,” Quỳnh said. “I remember how sensitive that spot is.” 

Quỳnh sat back on Andy’s thighs and began to wrap her hair into a loose bun on the top of her head. The sight before her was so familiar, a sight she had dreamed of on so many nights that Andy almost thought she would cry. Her hair out of the way, slowly Quỳnh dipped down and replaced her fingers with her mouth. She just teased her tongue in that sensitive place but it was enough to cause Andy to shout. Quỳnh slowly began to work her tongue around, sucking around her clit, drawing her slightly into her mouth. The curve of her chin pressed up against her entrance, bringing more sensation as she moved. 

“Quỳnh, _god, shit, fuck -_ ” Andy swore in languages that Quỳnh knew and ones she didn’t, old and new mixed together, the past and present colliding. 

Quỳnh fell quickly into the rhythm she had perfected over the years: slow little sucks accompanied by more frantic licks. With each movement, more and more pleasure built, strong and pulsing, taking away her thoughts and washing away the past. Her inner thighs felt damp, Quỳnh’s salvia mixed with her own wetness. Gradually, Quỳnh tilted her head up, lifting herself up off the bed a little so she could tease a finger around Andy’s entrance. She carefully eased it inside and Andy moaned, arching up off the bed as Qyunh crooked her finger towards herself. 

“Ah -” Quỳnh whispered. “I remember that too.” 

Andy turned her face to the side again, moaning into the crook of her elbow and grinding her hips in a frantic search for more sensation. It had been so long and now Quỳnh was here. The emotions, the physical touch, the wet sound as Quỳnh eased another finger inside, felt overwhelming. 

Andy needed something to hold onto, and knew that Quỳnh didn’t want to be touched yet. She reached up blindly for one of the cushions and grabbed it, holding it close to her chest. 

Quỳnh’s fingers and mouth moved in tandem, following the same rhythm. It pulsed through Andy’s body like a heartbeat, strong and grounding. Quỳnh increased her pace, working her fingers in and out, crooking them inwards and pressing the tender spot inside of her. Andy lifted her head up off the pillow slightly to see Quỳnh, head bowed, cheeks wet, nestled in between her legs. She groaned and a deep fond feeling, love rising like a phoenix from the ashes, filled her body. Quỳnh moaned and hummed against her, enjoying it as much as she was. The sound, the sensation, the sight, was enough. 

Andy’s orgasm built up like a supernova, hot and bright. She cried out and tensed around Quỳnh’s fingers. Her vision whited out, and for a second she was back in that cell, watching Quỳnh be dragged out of the door. Only this time, instead of Quỳnh being dragged away, she was standing in bright sunlight. It was warm, almost too warm. The light was too blinding. And then, as she always did, Quỳnh held out her hand to her. The shackles fell away and, in her mind, Andy stepped forwards to take it. 

“Come, Andromache,” Quỳnh whispered. “Come for me.” 

Andy did. 

Behind her eyes, she saw herself reach out and take Quỳnh’s hand. Pleasure pulsed through her, her whole body shook. In the blinding light, it seemed something old died and something new was born. 

When she came to her senses again, Andy realised that she was crying. Hot salty tears spilled down her face and trickled into her mouth. The composure that she had spent the last five hundred years building finally shattered. 

“My heart,” Quỳnh whispered and slowly moved from between Andy’s legs and up to her face. Her cheeks were still wet as she leaned in and pressed a line of kisses down, following the rivulets of tears. “Don’t cry.” 

“It’s salty,” Andy said, suddenly a little afraid. Not of Quỳnh, but of being a reminder of all those years. “Quỳnh, they’re salty.” 

Quỳnh just leaned in again, kissing along the tears streaking across Andy’s jaw. 

“My heart, even if the whole ocean was contained inside of you, I could never be afraid.” 

_Okay, she still had that romantic streak._ Andy sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her arm. After composing herself, Andy tilted her head up and kissed Quỳnh on the lips, tasting herself there. 

“I’m sorry,” she said and rested her forehead against Quỳnh’s. “I’m so sorry for everything.” 

“Don’t apologise,” Quỳnh’s spoke quietly, voice breathy and barely audible. 

“Please, Quỳnh,” she whispered. Her voice cracked, unable to contain what she had wanted to say, wanted to _do_ , for so long. “Please, can I touch you?” 

Quỳnh paused as if she was thinking about it. 

“Be gentle,” she uttered after a while. “Be gentle, Andromache.” 

Andy thought her heart was going to break there and then. 

“We can stop if it’s too much,” Andy said. “Just tell me and we’ll stop.” She held out her hand, hovering it above Quỳnh’s arm. “Can we start with this?” 

Another pause hung in the air. Finally, Quỳnh nodded. 

Andy gently brushed her fingers across Quỳnh’s arm, feeling the silk underneath her digits. Quỳnh shivered at the touch and then, ever so slowly, her face broke into a smile. 

With a turn, Andy gently rolled Quỳnh onto her back, so that she was now bracketed over her. She continued her exploration above Quỳnh’s pyjamas, following the curve of her waist down to the jut of her hipbones and then back up again to thumb at the valleys between her ribs. Quỳnh hummed underneath her, a soft breathy noise, the way she always used to do when Andy spent hours mapping the chart of her body with her tongue, and teeth, and fingers. Even feeling her through the thin fabric, her warmth bleeding through into Andy’s fingers felt like _everything._

“Can I?” Andy said eventually as she teased her hand underneath where Quỳnh’s pyjama top had rucked up around her lower stomach. 

Quỳnh nodded in affirmation. Andy spread her hand out, hovered it above Quỳnh’s skin for a moment, gently pressed three fingers against her stomach, and began to massage in a slow circle. At the slightest touch, Quỳnh jolted up off the bed so violently that Andy almost yanked her hand away. 

“I’m alright,” Quỳnh whispered. “It -” She whined again as Andy moved her hand around to gently brush her thumb over Quỳnh’s waist. “It just feels like... a lot.” She reached over and placed her hand on top of Andy’s so that the fabric was in between them. “Undress me,” she said. “Slowly. Like you used to.” 

Andy couldn’t say no to that. She pressed a kiss to Quỳnh’s lips and then began to unbutton her pyjamas, gradually revealing the skin beneath. Her breath hitched as she pushed the fabric off Quỳnh’s breasts. She stared for a moment, enraptured, and then broke the spell by pressing a trail of kisses across the dark freckles there. Andy moved from using her hands to her mouth, pressed a kiss to the soft skin underneath Quỳnh’s breast, and then moved to take her nipple in her mouth. Quỳnh whined as Andy licked a tender circle, then nipped gently. 

“Mmm -” She scrunched up her eyebrows and inhaled sharply. “I forgot how skilled your mouth is -” She shuffled against the sheets. “You should show me more.”

Andy hummed against the indent at the bottom of Quỳnh’s ribs, inhaling the scent of her skin. She couldn’t remember what Quỳnh used to smell like - that had been lost to time long ago. But as Andy breathed in, a strong sense of deja vu seized her. There was a familiarity there, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on - safe and secure while also hazy and shadowed. She moved further down, kissing and nuzzling across the plane of Quỳnh’s stomach, until she reached the elastic waistband of her pyjamas bottoms. Quỳnh shivered underneath her. 

“Can I?” she asked.

Quỳnh nodded. “Take them off,” she said, voice breathy. 

Andy slid the pyjama bottoms off Quỳnh’s hips. She lifted herself up as Andy pulled them down even further over her thighs, to her knees, and finally off her ankles. Andy sighed at the sight of Quỳnh before her. Her knees were pulled up and touching, almost coyly, so Andy could just see a small sliver of Quỳnh’s white underwear between her legs. Andy leaned down and pressed one tender kiss to Quỳnh’s knee and then to the other one. 

“Are you okay?” she asked. Quỳnh nodded and opened her legs, inviting Andy inside. _She is beautiful,_ Andy thought. She swallowed. The moment felt monumental - a reunion which she thought would never come. She reached down and clasped Quỳnh’s hand in her own. “How do you want me to start?” she asked. 

Quỳnh brought her hand down and touched herself over her underwear. “Maybe just like this at first.” Her throat jumped as she swallowed. “I’m worried it will feel like too much.” 

Andy pressed a kiss to Quỳnh’s soft inner thigh. 

“Okay -” She paused, aware of the gap where _my love_ used to be. “Tell me if it’s too much. We’ll stop, okay.” 

Gently, Andy began to rub a slow circle over Quỳnh’s vulva, not focusing on the clit at first but just gently easing the folds apart in slow measured movements. She gently thumbed over the area around Quỳnh’s entrance while continuing to use her two forefingers to massage under Quỳnh’s clit. Quỳnh whined, low and needy. Andy paused and Quỳnh squeezed the hand she still held onto like a lifebuoy. 

“Keep going,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. 

Andy felt wetness begin to form under her thumb as she continued her slow ministrations. After a little bit, she moved her forefingers up and gently brushed over Quỳnh’s clit. Immediately, Quỳnh jolted and yelped. Andy almost drew away, until she saw Quỳnh’s face break out into a full smile. Quỳnh motioned for Andy to take her underwear off and she obeyed, easing them down. 

Andy’s heart hammered in her chest, and she looked down at Quỳnh, her legs open and the skin after her entrance already wet. Andy placed her thumb back there, moving in a slow circle, staying external and moving the slick up to reduce the friction. She moved her attention to Quỳnh’s clit and felt it swell underneath her fingertips. Quỳnh gasped again and gripped Andy’s hand harder. 

“Use your mouth,” Quỳnh said. “Like you used to, like you did in... where was it?”

“I don’t know, my love?” Andy replied, the pet name spilling off her tongue. It felt natural now as if it needed to be said. 

“My memory is hazy.” Quỳnh shut her eyes and exhaled as Andy pressed a kiss to her clit and gently sucked. 

“So is mine,” Andy whispered against her. “Too much time.” 

“Too much nothingness.” 

Andy instantly felt cold, as if the dark, cold pressure of the deep ocean had begun to spill through the windows of their room and invade their bed. She didn’t want to think about it. She wished she could have drained the whole ocean, dragged the moon out of the sky to end the tides, just so Quỳnh wouldn’t have had to suffer down there alone. Andy swallowed and focused on Quỳnh before her, the present, and what they had now. “I can remember this, though,” she said. Andy flicked her tongue and pressed on the delicate underside of Quỳnh’s clit. Quỳnh moaned, arched up off the bed and began to laugh softly. 

“I remember too,” Quỳnh said, voice soft, sounding as if she was far away. 

Andy moved down a little bit, laying on her stomach and burying her head between Quỳnh’s thighs. She licked from just below Quỳnh’s clit, down through her wet folds to her entrance, and pressed her tongue there, tasting her. She moaned against Quỳnh and she shuddered at the vibration. Andy’s cheeks were wet and - as she always felt when she did this - Andy knew she could live here forever. Andy fell back into the rhythm she somehow remembered Quỳnh enjoyed - light sucks on her clit, presses from her chin against her entrance, movement up and down between her folds, and then rapid little licks back on her clit again. 

Quỳnh keened on the bed as Andy continued. She loved this. She loved feeling how Quỳnh became wetter and wetter with the movement of her mouth and tongue and lips. She loved the noises Quỳnh made. She loved how Quỳnh squeezed her hand. Andy flicked her tongue in little kitten licks against Quỳnh clit and lifted herself up so she could press a finger to Quỳnh’s entrance. Quỳnh squeezed her hand, more desperately. 

“No. Just outside,” she said. “I’m worried anything else will be too much.” 

“Okay, of course,” Andy drew her hand away, settled back down, and returned her mouth to Quỳnh. 

“Mhmm - just like that - keep going.” 

Andy increased her pace and ignored the pain in her jaw. That was new. Quỳnh moaned and whispered something in a language Andy had forgotten under her breath, low and rhythmic, a relic of a forgotten age. Andy looked up while she licked a low slow stripe up through Quỳnh’s folds, a brief reprieve before she returned to the frantic pace she knew she enjoyed. She knew exactly how Quỳnh’s body reacted before she came. Her eyes were closed in that way now, her mouth slightly open, and she gripped Andy’s hand like a vice. Andy flicked her tongue again and again against Quỳnh’s clit, sucking lightly and rubbing at her entrance with her chin. 

It was enough. Andy felt Quỳnh tense against her and more wetness spread across her chin as she cried out and came hard. She eased Quỳnh through her orgasm until she shook and breathed heavily. 

“Don’t stop,” Quỳnh gasped. “Don’t stop.” 

Andy continued the pace, sucking and licking against Quỳnh’s clit. No other thoughts filled her mind other than the sensation of her against her mouth, the taste of her, the way her thighs shook against her ears. Quỳnh’s noises rose in volume and then broke into a gasp which grew into a scream. Quỳnh was always loud. Andy felt a smile creep across her face at the memory of all the times she had to clasp a hand over Quỳnh’s mouth so they didn’t get caught. 

Quỳnh’s second orgasm came silently as if all the wind was knocked out of her. She squeezed her thighs tightly around Andy and arched up off the bed. Once the aftershocks had passed, she burst out into a fit of giggles. Andy found herself laughing as well, breathing hard. She rested her head against Quỳnh thigh and pressed kisses there. 

“Quỳnh -” she managed to say. 

Quỳnh cut her off by pulling her up with the hand she was still holding. 

“Come here,” she said, still laughing. “Kiss me.” 

Andy did. They kissed slowly as their breathing regulated. 

Andy rolled off Quỳnh’s stomach and they laid facing each other on the now rumpled blankets, legs intertwined and hands clasped together. She could feel Quỳnh’s pulse beating a steady rhythm against her wrist. Andy drew her hand up and cupped Quỳnh’s face, tracking the planes of her cheeks down to her lips. 

For many years, decades, centuries, Andy never thought she would have this again. Quỳnh tucked her head against Andy’s shoulder and sighed happily. 

“Thank you,” she said, voice small. 

Andy brushed a hand through Quỳnh’s hair. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said. 

“I do. It’s for everything,” Quỳnh continued. “For being so understanding.” 

“I could say the same to you.” 

“We’ve got a long road ahead of us.” Quỳnh looked up, making eye contact with Andy, direct and intense. Her face looked drawn. 

“We do,” Andy agreed. “But this is a start.” She pressed a kiss to Quỳnh’s forehead. 

“It is,” Quỳnh replied. “It’s a start.” She smiled and pulled in close, reveling in her new comfort. 

The tension between them had broken a little, like the fresh breeze after a thunderstorm. That night, for the first time since Quỳnh had got out of the water, they fell asleep with their bodies pressed together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Chang'an is the historical name for Xi'an, it was a prosperous capital for many Chinese Dynasties until its decline after the end of the Tang Dynasty. 
> 
> As always I love to hear from you all, all comments and critiques are welcome. Hope you enjoyed reading <3


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